


Blow

by yeaka



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blow Jobs, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, PWP, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ray enjoys his omega’s mouth.
Relationships: Ray Green/Philip Pearson | Traveler 3326
Kudos: 31





	Blow

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Travelers or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Philip’s the best damn omega Ray’s ever had, and Ray’s burned through five. He told himself after the last one—his ever-irritating ex-wife—he’d never go back. He’d just date other alphas or content himself with fucking his own hand. But fucking Philip’s pretty mouth is a million times better, and all Ray can think as he drives down Philip’s velvet throat is how damn _lucky_ he is. 

Objectively, Philip’s not even that great at giving head. He has no technique, probably no practice, but he’s right in the middle of heat and goes down on Ray like he’s gagging for it, so it doesn’t really matter; the enthusiasm makes up for everything. Philip’s eyes are cloudy, dilated, heavy-lidded as he bobs up and down, cheeks flushed an angry pink. His blond-brown stubble’s gotten a bit too long, and that tickles when he grinds into Ray’s thighs, but that’s just an extra thrill for Ray to get off on—he’s never fucked a man before. He never thought he’d want to. He wasn’t _against_ it, just didn’t have any reason to try, until an adorable junkie landed in his lap with a flare for gambling and a desperate need for a lawyer. Not that Ray gives Philip much legal advice anymore. Mostly he just tries to keep Philip clean and swallows down Philip’s secrets. He doesn’t care anymore that Philip lives alone in a weird abandoned warehouse. It doesn’t matter that Philip’s friends come and go like ships in the night and don’t seem to have anything in common with him. Ray doesn’t even care that Philip’s got a weird thing about cameras and gets horribly somber when Ray talks about their future. Philip’s a wildly intelligent, incredibly compassionate, gorgeous creature that for some reason seems fine bumming around with Ray, and that’s all Ray needs to know.

Even Philip’s nest is adorable. It should be sad, tucked into a tiny offshoot of the warehouse, mostly made out of old blankets and a few of Ray’s stolen shirts—he can see the grey faux-leather jacket he thought he’d lost last month tucked under Philip’s pillow. They’re completely ensconced in it, Ray leaning back against the wall but cushioned by the tangled fabrics. Philip’s swallowed up, but bits of his naked body still shine through, slick with sweat and flushed red-hot. Philip’s long hair is matted across his forehead and stuck to his shoulders, occasionally catching in Ray’s pubic hair, and maybe that should be gross but isn’t, because Ray just wants to grind Philip’s handsome face into his crotch. The best thing Ray ever did in his whole life was buy Philip that turtle. He’s been seeing occasional, subtle smiles ever since, and it’s paid off tenfold. 

He thrusts himself deep down Philip’s throat and gets off on Philip’s choked gagging noises. He stiffens more when Philip recovers and _moans_ , the noise muffled but delicious, reverberating right through Ray’s cock. Ray threads his fingers through Philip’s silky hair and groans, “Fuck yeah, just like that, babe...”

Something clinks outside the ‘bedroom’—maybe the warehouse door grinding back, but Ray’s too hard to care. He should’ve brought Philip back to his place, but it’s too late for that—Philip’s already here, and his nest’s already made. Ray knows better than to try and move an omega in heat, _especially_ one with withdrawals clouding up their symptoms. Ray knows from experience that just makes things worse. Also more intense. But Philip stopped whining a while back and seems to have settled, seems better—he called Ray yesterday in tears because it hurt so bad, but Ray knows how to take care of junkies, omegas, and horny men. He’s so glad it’s worked, because Philip’s so damn _cute_ when he feels good. 

Footsteps are echoing through the chamber, drawing closer. Ray grits his teeth and hates to say it, but for Philip’s sake, he makes himself grunt, “We should stop.” He knows Philip actually cares about his friends’ opinions. But Philip’s too high on hormones to listen, and Ray has to tug him back by the hair. 

He slides off Ray’s dick with a wet pop and peers up at Ray, rasping hoarsely, “No—stay.”

Ray thumbs Philip’s cheek. There was no chance of him leaving. He doesn’t care what that weird FBI guy preaches to him about ‘protocols’—he’s not leaving Philip now until the heat is gone. Usually, Philip goes quiet and mutters that Ray needs to listen, that the FBI guy’s in charge and the protocols matter, but right now, Philip looks about ready to tell Ray _everything_.

He just dives back onto Ray’s dick instead, swallowing Ray down in one big gulp. Ray groans and arches up, completely forgetting why he tried to stop it in the first place. 

The door slides back. The blonde chick Philip seems to like peers in, takes one look at them, turns red, and walks out. Ray doesn’t even have a chance to say anything before the door’s slammed closed. Philip pulls up enough to mutter, “Marce...”

Ray pets his hair and soothes, “S’okay, Phil. It’s fine.”

Philip sucks in air. He shudders with it, trying to steady himself, like white-knuckling it through sobriety when alcohol’s around ever corner. Then he conquers it and nods. Ray’s proud of him. 

He envelops Ray in the wet heat of his mouth, and Ray sinks back to enjoy it.


End file.
